


La Premiere Fleur

by chicagoartnerd



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Cannibalism, F/M, Gen, M/M, Murder, Psychologists & Psychiatrists, Serial Killers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-18
Updated: 2013-04-22
Packaged: 2017-12-08 20:07:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/765471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chicagoartnerd/pseuds/chicagoartnerd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Abigail Hobbs wakes up she meets Will Graham. And immediately wants to dissect him.<br/>As it turns out Crawford was more right then he could have ever predicted. Abigail and Hannibal come to a taught arrangement and Will is the prize. Sometimes families hide the darkest secrets within them; this new little one is no exception.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part 1: Abigail

**Author's Note:**

> I might have a thing for Lucifer-like characters in bespoke suits. Hannibal is a gold mine for me. I feel like in this fandom I can let my dark!fic flag fly so here we go! A sexy sociopath found family fic with cannibalism, murder, and creepily sexual undertones. This fic is starting me down a messed up road. All aboard!

There was a lot of pain. So much pain for such a small nick. Just a little cut.

So much blood and she was dying. Staring into the frightened eyes of the man who had shot her father ten times. If he couldn’t get his hands right with pressure she would die.

Stupid man, stupid men.

Abigail Hobbs was seventeen she should have known better by now. The only person you could trust in the world is yourself and only when you were conscious.

And her fierce consciousness was leaving her with all of her blood.

Blood on hands, blood on worn linoleum, blood in his eyes.

And suddenly there was the right set of hands.

She would live.

* * *

 

 

She awoke in burning agony. The incompetent night nurse had forgotten to inject her intravenous drip with the necessary anti-biotics it seemed. She could feel the infection clawing up her throat but she couldn’t scream for anyone through her intubated throat.

If this was what Hell was like then she was sad she hadn’t sent her father there sooner.

Sent him there nearly a year ago when she gotten her acceptance letter from Brown. Abigail should have killed him when he started suggesting they hunt girls he liked, girls that had her soft auburn hair.

But she pitied him and she did owe him a little for helping her over the years. Sometimes he was funny, sometimes hanging out with him in the woods hunting had been fun. Both smiling at each other over the dinner table while they watched her mother unknowingly eat something much tastier than venison.

He believed that eating them made him stronger, wiser, faster. She believed eating them was economical and clean. People didn’t taste much different from pigs after all.

She blacked out and when she woke up the next time she was covered in a cold sweat but conscious. Abigail ripped out as many tubes as she could before the hospital staff came running in at all the alarms going off. They finally listened to her and administered some better drugs and she was asleep again.

When she woke up for the last time in the hospital he anxiously sat up to look at her. The man who had shot her father.

“Hello, um I don’t know if you remember me exactly but my name’s Will Graham. How are you feeling?”

He didn’t meet her eyes and suddenly she was curious. This man was not your average trigger happy unbalanced law enforcement officer. He was a different sort of disturbed. She put on her best bewildered face and looked him as much in the face as he had allowed,

“Thank you for saving my life. It was you who stopped the bleeding right?”

He cringed and shrugged twice, trying to get comfortable in his own skin, or perhaps some one else’s.

That’s what it was about this man. He didn’t live in his body regularly. Wherever his mind was it was rarely his own and solely his. Fascinating.

“No I tried but actually that was Doctor Lecter. I’m sorry about your mother and, and your father too I suppose.”

She looked down at her hands clasping the itchy hospital blanket,

“He would have killed me if you hadn’t shot him. Don’t ever regret saving some one’s life no matter what you had to do to do it.”

He jumped and the prickly smile in the back of her head widened.

What was some one whose brain took a regular holiday to the darkest parts of the human psyche doing shooting the very people he knew best? Will was trying hard not to feel good about killing her father. She wanted to know why.

What Abigail had wanted to say to him was to never regret killing. It was final and every one had to die eventually. There had to be more honor and glory in being murdered expertly than dying in your sleep drooling and shitting into a bag, your ass covered in bed sores.

But he was so tiny, a baby cuckoo in a nest of starlings that was trying so hard not to give into to his nature. He was a brood parasite just like her, feeding off of the ignorant masses, destroying their nests and eating their children. They were both predators he just hadn’t realized it yet.

And so she held her tongue and instead watched him carefully.

“The doctors say you’ll be well enough to leave the hospital soon. Social services say you don’t have any family that they could contact. Is there some one you can go stay with until you can go to college in August?”

She shook her head and waited for him to say it. It was obvious he felt responsible for her. Wanted to make amends for a perceived wrong.

All the better for her to study him then. See if there wasn’t something in him worth nurturing. Growing a hunger took longer in some than it did others. Hers had always been there waiting for that first slip of the knife.

She suspected he had been starving his since he was a boy. What she wouldn’t give to know what his first memory was. Was it truly his own or the dying rasp of some one else’s?

“Well I’ve asked them if you could stay at my house for the rest of the summer.  If you want to that is. You can stay there for a little while until you find a friend to stay with or,”

She smiled radiantly,

“Thank you. Really you’ve done so much already. Thank you for your hospitality.”

He waved her away nervously and still wouldn’t meet her eyes. They were the windows to the soul and his certainly seemed worth inspecting. Although she was sure he was avoiding her because of what he already knew was there and what he was afraid to find.

Some more news.

“Uh Detective Crawford wants to ask you a few questions when you’re well enough. I can have some people stop by your house to get you some clothes and stuff if you don’t want to go back there.”

She didn’t really care one way or the other on that issue. There was a child’s tree-house two miles into the woods near Ashford she wanted visit but she would make that trip without an FBI escort.

“No it’s okay I’ll go back when they let me out. Better to deal with things head on than hide.”

He did look into her eyes at that and she smiled sadly back at him. Will Graham was terrified.

Not of her but of the thoughts in his head. There was only one cure for that kind of fear. She was going to have to excise it from him. Delicately.

* * *

 

 

Detective Crawford did indeed have some questions for her. But they were blunt and she was a finely pointed stave. Whatever he suspected her of would be disproved.

The trophies and weapons they discovered belonged solely to her father, there was no trace of her hand in the killings the FBI knew about. And the only people who could name her involvement no longer had tongues.

They were a muscle and quite chewy but not too bad when steamed. He didn’t have the patience to make anything more than a steak from them but to her meals should be enjoyable especially when they consisted of rarities.

“Your father’s co-workers mentioned you two were close. That you often spent weekends hunting in the woods at the cabin.”

She nodded and clenched her hands nervously. Her eye purposefully avoiding the blood pool on the floor that was her own.

“We did but it was only ever deer not what you’re thinking. I would never, I thought my father would never, but. I suppose when you love some one it’s harder to see things about them that might be...wrong.”

Will was pacing now and her eyes as well as some one else she hadn’t been introduced to drifted to him.

“Tell me everything that happened right before Doctor Lecter and I got here.”

She paused and appeared to think about it. That moment was perfectly clear before the haze of panic and sound and blood that came after but she was playing the scared child.

“We were making dinner. Everything was fine, normal. And then dad got this phone call. He got really quiet and stiff and then just went crazy. Stabbing……he stabbed my mother and then chased her out of the house. I was screaming I think.”

She started shaking but only Will started and then stopped himself from comforting her.

“There was another killer. A copycat. He called and warned your father we were coming. That’s what set him off! Do you remember what the voice sounded like? Was it familiar?”

She shook her head no and looked panicked,

“I didn’t recognize the voice. I had never heard it before. Is it some one close by? Could they still be out there?”

Detective Crawford looked at her skeptically but the other man’s eyes were burning into the side of her face. Doctor Lecter.

Abigail turned and saw him quirk an eyebrow at her. Interesting. She let the corner of her mouth twist up for a blink.

Then it was back to distress. She let it soak her brain and muscles. It would be more believable if she had an actual physical reaction. Sociopath’s had trouble with empathy. Luckily her overactive imagination made up for what she lacked in emotion.

They putted around the house for a few more minutes before she was allowed to pack and bag and leave. She stared dead-eyed at the "cannibal" graffiti that had been scrawled across her garage in blood red.

Will came up and awkwardly stood next to her watching her stare at it.

“We should go.”

“I think he should lock me up you know.”

Will froze and slowly turned back to examine her face. She let the empty tears run into the wind.

“I knew deep down he wasn’t normal. That there was something wrong. But I never told any one. I should have told some one.”

Will hesitated but then put a comforting hand on her shoulder,

“Don’t do that. Blaming yourself won’t fix anything and it certainly wasn’t your fault. You must have been just a child when he started; don’t go down that road.”

She turned and looked at the visible agony in his eyes and tried not to smile with glee.  

What had happened to him all those years ago? He must have been a few years younger than her when it happened. What she wouldn’t give to be able to crack open his skull and see the writhing worlds inside.

That must be why Lecter hung around him like a coal dark shadow. Always watching, eyes like a carrion bird’s. How Will had missed that one standing next to him she didn’t understand yet. But something told her she was about to become very well acquainted with Doctor Hannibal Lecter.


	2. Part 2: Hannibal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is mostly about Abigail in case you can't tell. I have a thing for lady serial killers insomuch as I'm pretty sure they are 1,000 times better at killing. Which is why we've only ever caught one of them.

He knew the girl would be trouble as soon as she opened her eyes in the hospital.

The whole reason he had called Hobbs was to create chaos not out of some misguided sense of fidelity. It was an act meant to throw Will into turmoil, to make him choose to kill.

It was a crucible and he had not come away unchanged.

Hannibal had longed to get him alone and slowly peel away the layers of his mind, flaying bare, raw, and bloody peach like prosciutto.

He had started by uncovering that Will had gotten enjoyment out of killing Hobbs. It had felt right to him. His just mind had wallowed in the feeling of victory over the villain and he had saved a child.

Well at least he thought he had.

Hannibal had not missed the keen interest in the girl’s eyes at certain observations from Will during their time at the crime scene and he had not for a moment thought her innocent.

To the contrary he was now quite sure Crawford was at least partially correct. That Abigail Hobbs had helped her father kill those eight girls was only a half-truth. The whole truth being that she had probably murdered more people than her father and she was only seventeen. 

He very much wanted to talk to her but it would only be polite the send a proper invitation.

A slight apology for stepping on her toes as it were because he had no doubt that had Will not killed Garret Jacob Hobbs his daughter would have.

* * *

 

As he suspected Will called his office the next day to make an appointment for Abigail in the afternoon. He said she was having trouble sleeping because of nightmares and even if she wasn't therapy was definitely needed. Hannibal was pleased to oblige.

When she showed up he watched her as she examined his office, walked the perimeter like Will had and observed.

That was one thing all three of them seemed to have in common. They took in their surroundings like sponges, effortlessly blending and flowing through them like tempera in water.

“Why don’t you have a seat so we can begin.”

“I’d rather stand if you don’t mind. Something about strange men looming over me creeps me out.”

He raised an eyebrow at that and sat down behind his desk. She consciously or unconsciously circled in closer.

“Really Abigail, if you find me off-putting there is more than one therapist I can write you a referral for.”

She waved her hand dismissively then sat down with a heavy thunk in the plush arm chair across from him,

“Let’s speak frankly and openly with each other Doctor Lecter. As equals and aficionados of cooking and... certain other recreational activities.”

His pleasant smile fell and he let his true nature slip onto his face. Surprisingly she smiled back and leaned back into the chair comfortably,

“Now that’s more like it.”

“Miss Hobbs we are far from equal in anything. I have been an ‘aficionado’ as you so quaintly put it, for longer than you have been breathing on this earth.”

She gazed straight back at his dead shark eyes with the cold barren blue of her own,

“I am far from stupid Doctor Lecter. I was accepted into Brown’s Organic Chemistry department almost a year ago while still in high school. That’s what started my father’s deviation.”

“Really? I was quite sure you two had been hunting together for longer than a year.”

“Oh yes much longer than that but you see my father listened to me before that. Obeyed my commands on what we should kill and when. Things ran more smoothly before his break. But I will admit to that foolishness. I indulged him out of some sense of loyalty or sentiment.”

He nodded and then gestured towards the angry pink gash across her neck,

“So not stupid but certainly you have made some mistakes.”

Her smile became feral,

“Oh I wouldn’t say this was a mistake now would you? I am the victim of a horrible crime. Just a scared young girl who will forever be haunted by the murders of her monstrous father. Suspicion is heavy now but soon no one will remember me. Well except Will. He will remember me for the rest of his life.”

His teeth audibly clicked shut and he eyed her with new interest. Abigail had her eyes, he wanted to cut them out of her head and keep them in his coat pockets.

“Will does feel responsible for you now but in less than half a year’s time you will be at Brown and he will have forgotten whatever self-imposed debt he has to you.”

She shook her head slowly,

“You think you understand him because he sees the world like we do but you’re forgetting he’s still playing at being human. He will come to visit me on campus, send me awkward emails and texts, maybe even a birthday gift. He will belatedly ask me to come back to his place for the holidays. I will be his family. And unless you kill them family is for life. But you would know all about that wouldn't you? What was her name, your sister?”

And then the letter opener on his desk was digging into that fresh pink dotted line, cut here.

She simply smiled back victorious,

“You can’t kill me if you still want to get to him.”

He knew she was right but killing her and eating those abhorrent blue eyes would almost be worth the hassle of scrubbing his current life and relocating to Argentina.

“I do not share well with others. I never have.”

She inched forward and let him press the letter opener in deep enough to draw blood,

“Perhaps you can learn if you try hard enough.”

And then she took his hand on the blade and moved it away enough to lean up to whisper in his ear,

“Have you ever had a protégé Doctor Lecter? It is a most delightful feeling to have some one that obeys you implicitly, worships you. We are both very much like Gods and all Gods crave is power and adoration. It is why we are so drawn to him. I’ve lost my protégé and you want one badly. Some one who understands, who you can mold.”

“What makes you think you have anything to offer me other than your silence.”

She threw back her head and laughed,

“Hate me all you want but with my help he will be yours to make in your own image, to corrupt. Isn’t that was every fallen angel wants? Company in Hell?”

“You know Abigail I’ve noticed that the forest near Will’s house is particularly dry this time of year. If you want to keep up with that nasty smoking habit of yours you best be careful.”

She smiled softly her eyes shining in the fluorescents of his office,

“You will try to kill me after you have him. That’s not hard to see but know this; even if you succeed he will always think fondly of me no matter what you do to show him otherwise. I am his last shred of humanity. Too bad I haven’t been human for a long time.”

He sat back against his desk and watched as she wiped the congealing blood droplets from her neck playing with them on her fingers before licking it thoughtfully off,

“What do you want?”

She knew she had him but surprisingly she didn’t gloat. Abigail’s expression became grave,

“I want a family Doctor Lecter. A family befitting of my special needs. You can have him but you’re going to have to share him.”

She was beneath him and yet he found himself agreeing with her begrudgingly.

There was something to be said for finding some one half his age and nearly as vicious and cunning. He could kill her but she wouldn’t die in Will.

Really the best way to draw him deeper now would be to use her to pull him under. Given time he would have savored doing it himself. But now that she had made herself a nuisance he would have to use her in some capacity.

“Who knows we might even make a good pair. After all we do share, ah similar tastes. And I will be the first to admit my father wasn’t the best of companions. With you being my senior in education and experience it would only seem right that I defer to you from now on.”

He knew she was pandering to him but let it go. Despite his better interest he was eager for some one to share his talents with and now he had two people who could appreciate what he was best at.

He walked up to her and took her hand kissing it gently before turning it over and biting it harder on the wrist,

“For now we have an accord. But remember Miss Abigail that if you ever bring her up again for any reason I will cut your eyes from your head and use them as a chilled palette cleanser. You can explain why to Will afterwards.”

She took her wrist back and leaned up to kiss him chastely just below his right ear,

“Understood. Ah! I almost forgot I brought you a gift! The boy you sent me was a fun fuck but not so good for much of anything else. You know in some parts of this country they’re called rocky mountain oysters and are considered a delicacy. Enjoy.”

She handed him a slightly pink tinged parcel of wax paper neatly taped into a square and waved jauntily goodbye.

He called evenly after her,

"Goodnight Abigail. I hold your life in my hands again, don't make me let go this time."

She winked as she slammed the door to the front of his office and was gone.

If she behaved he could almost see himself working well with her. Almost as well as he could see her splayed out on his desk, missing a few pieces and bleeding all over his patient files.


	3. Part 3: Will

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really enjoyed writing this as I have a thing for found family. This just happens to be found murder family so slightly less wholesome. I'm currently writing a side story to this about what Hannibal actually got Abigail for her 18th Birthday. 
> 
> Also as a side note I'm looking for a fandom beta. I have a regular beta and she is lovely but I feel bad forcing her to read all of my fanfiction when that's not really her thing. Also she still has college classes. So would any one be interested in looking over some of my work in the future? If so drop me a comment.

Will was an insomniac; it was another mental condition to add to his tedious list of conditions.

But this time it seemed to be serving a better purpose. Abigail was sitting in a pile of dogs staring at a black T.V. screen. He sat down next her and Jake shifted to give him some space in the dog huddle.

“Have you always had trouble sleeping or is it a more recent development?”

She shrugged and turned to look out the large sliding glass door into the night woods.

“I keep thinking that I’m going to wake up. I’m afraid to go to sleep because then this might be real. It isn’t nightmares that keep me awake.”

Will looked away. Abigail was not what he expected.

Well he wasn’t really sure what he was expecting because he hadn’t known any teenage girls even when he was a teenager. Being a social pariah and mentally divergent tended to leave you under socialized at best and completely detached and floating at worst.

Whatever view he had had of her wearing jeans and a pastel sweater covered in blood had screamed victim and innocent. But as he watched this girl in her oversized sweatshirt and ratty pajama bottoms stare emptily into the woods he couldn’t help but feel even farther away from humanity. She was like looking through a ghost.

Jesus no wonder he couldn’t sleep.

She had been right; it was the nightmares more than his ever-functioning squeaky wheel of brain.

“I’m sorry.”

She looked at him strangely her blue eyes huge in the half-dark cast by the kitchen light far away.

“For what?”

For taking away her life. For ruining her reality, he had shattered it and killed a key member of her world.

Even if that member had been a murderer he had never done anything to disrupt what she would have believed was a normal life. But Will had. Then he had brought her into his world, let her see what Crawford made of his mind, what his mind actually was.

And to add insult to injury he was trying to replace what she had lost with what little normalcy his life possessed. He was doing a pretty shitty job of it even by his standards.

“For everything that’s happened to you. You did nothing to deserve it.”

She turned her round eyes upon him and he was helplessly drawn into them,

“Most of what happens to people in life is something they did nothing to deserve. Why assign value to triumph and tragedy based on that metric. By that standard my father deserved only eight of those ten bullets you put in him. Eight deaths he was owed for the eight lives he took.

He cringed. But he couldn’t look away from those intelligent eyes and suddenly he knew.

Knew that she didn’t care that Will had killed her father because she knew what he was doing and knew he needed to die. But for some reason he had yet to realize why she hadn’t told any one.

Maybe it was because she had been just as upset as he was to expose her world to be make-believe. He could understand the “pay no mind to the man behind the curtain” mentality. He had lived half his life trying to run from the things that other people would rather pretend they would never know or see.

That sort of thing happened to other people, not good God fearing people. It was the only way any one ever felt a compulsion to live outside in the world. If they really knew what every one around them was thinking they would have gone mad long ago. That wasn’t saying much for his sanity.

Then again he didn’t know everything. He didn’t know what Hannibal was thinking all the time and he realized he didn’t know what Abigail was thinking about either.

“Do you want to go see Doctor Lecter again? For me, personally, therapy has never worked but Doctor Lecter seems to take a more conversational approach so maybe it would be more helpful. I don’t know.”

He turned to look at his only friends again and scratched the closest under his chin awkwardly. He heard her sigh and then suddenly her small cold hand was removing his glasses and leaning in close. He jumped and immediately jerked back speaking way too loud for the silent house,

“Abigail what are you doing?”

She smiled lopsidedly and put his glasses on the coffee table next to him,

“I just wanted a hug before trying to go back to sleep. Is that alright?”

He was suddenly not sure having her here was such a good idea.

Something in her smile was a lie. He shivered but held out his arms for a hug. She held him briefly before sighing and letting go.

Will watched her slowly make her way back upstairs before she turned around and said a gentle goodnight. He didn’t know if she slept that night but he certainly thought about her while he didn’t.

 

* * *

 

Things went on with what he assumed was normalcy.

She got a summer job at a restaurant to help raise money for books for college even though he offered to help pay after she sold off all of her parents things for tuition.

He felt bad about her having to carpool to work and tried to buy her a car. She rebuffed him at every turn telling him he already gave her free room and board she couldn’t take any more from him. But he didn’t know how else to help her.

Abigail was already completely self-sufficient it seemed.  Will wondered for how long she had been like that. It was likely she was a completely different person after what happened to her and yet he couldn’t find any one who knew her really well before her father tried to murder her.

Apparently the Hobbs had mostly kept to themselves. She had one friend he could find but she no longer spoke to her. Will didn’t think that was a good sign but then again he didn’t really have any friends who weren’t colleagues first so he really couldn’t speak on healthy.

And so he solved cases with Crawford and Abigail worked and studied at home and every so often he would come home to find her diligently cooking for him or playing with the dogs in the back yard laughing.

He started to feel a dreamy almost sleepy calm at home.

That all changed when he got a phone call while chasing a serial rapist two states over. He rushed home in a panic to find Abigail with all six dogs watching the fire fighters put out what remained of his country home. They had yet to determine what had caused the fire but the fire fighters made it clear to him that the house was unlivable.

He got them a hotel room that allowed dogs for the night but from all the awkward shuffling and sideways glances even his socially inept mind figured out Abigail needed her privacy.

That seemed to be one normal teenage girl thing he could pick up from her. He tried not to analyze her too often because what he concluded made him uneasy.

The next day after one of her sessions with Hannibal Abigail came back more upbeat and even a little excited. When Will went outside to meet her he saw she wasn’t alone. He didn’t want to impose but Hannibal insisted he had a large enough house to comfortably fit all of them, including the dogs. And so in light of repairs at his old place Will relented.

And he hadn’t been lying just to get him to agree, Hannibal’s house was practically a manor. Instead of excitedly running roughshod over the place his dogs almost seemed intimidated by the size of it. They all stuck close to him as he unpacked in his massive new bedroom in the same wing as Abigail. There was a quick knock on his door before Hannibal ghosted in silently.

“I hope everything is to your liking.”

He scoffed and flopped down on the bed in response,

“No I hate having a bedroom the size of half my house because now I actually have to do a 5k in order to go to the bathroom.”

Hannibal chuckled softly and leaned against the door frame,

“Well I might actually have a bed room where the bathroom is a tad closer, or,”

Will held a quick hand and shook his head vigorously,

“Stop, just stop alright. You know I think you’re being way too generous and I know you won’t take no for an answer so let’s just drop it.”

He inclined his head and acquiesced,

“Very well. Then might you be hungry? After you and Abigail picked your rooms I started making beef stroganoff.”

Will nodded and followed him onto the upstairs landing and back downstairs to the formal dining room. He was ravenous.

Living in such a finely put together place was a little nerve wracking for him but Abigail seemed to have adjusted just fine. He came home from work several times to find her reading with Hannibal in his study. Him on the chaise couch and her in the armchair.

Then one evening he came back to find the dining room table set in grand style. Flowing with strands of crystal and pearl and boughs of bright white and blue hyacinth. It was like walking through some sort of fairy door into a strange dream. When he continued into the kitchen the sight that greeted him reminded him of several terribly tales about fae who invited humans to fancy parties. Parties where you shouldn't eat the food.

Hannibal was dressed even sharper than usual in a coal black suit with blue and white paisley shirt and blue hyacinth boutonnière.

But it was Abigail that caught his attention chopping greens for a salad. Her auburn hair was tumbling around her exposed porcelain shoulders as she scrunched up her nose in concentration. She was dressed all in tight red. Red lips, red dress, red high heels.

Hannibal moved around her to braise something in the skillet and they brushed past each other. His hand ghosting over her shoulders, her head tipping to the side to bare her neck for him. All the while her hard blue eyes never leaving Will’s own, her red smile burning as she pressed her tongue behind her teeth. Whatever spell he was under seemed to break as Hannibal stirred some sauce, clanking the wooden spoon in the pot loudly,

“Dinner will be served in a few moments. I let Abigail pick what we made since it is her birthday.”

Will looked down at his feet guiltily but looked up in time to watch Abigail smile ruthlessly at Hannibal,

“Oh he’s only telling half the truth. I wanted spaghetti and meatballs, comfort food, but he insisted on making it slightly more classy.”

“We agreed to meet halfway at chicken cacciatore.”

Hannibal took the pot off the stove and inclined his head towards the other steaming pan and Abigail emptied it into the pasta strainer in the sink.

“Why don’t you take a seat we’re almost done.”

Will felt ignored as they went in perfect tandem finishing the meal.

It was like watching some sort of ballet he didn’t understand, delicate, practiced, and brutal in its precision.

Dinner was delicious and Abigail spoke fondly of all of the classes she was signed up for this coming. Hannibal mentioned that he had gotten her a gift. Will’s heart practically fell through his chest onto the floor. He was supposed to be caring for her and here he had forgotten it was her Birthday. He really was bad at people. It was a wonder these two wanted to be in his life at all.

Suddenly there was two sets of hands, one of each of his shoulders,

“Don’t worry. I never told you what day my Birthday was so I didn’t expect you to know. The only reason Hannibal knew was because of my therapy chart. And even if you did know I still wouldn’t have expected a present. You’ve already given me so much.”

She squeezed his shoulder as Hannibal guided him to his feet,

“Why don’t we all go outside and look at the gift.”

It wasn’t a request but instead a command and he let himself be lead out the large wooden front door. Waiting there in the drive way was a new silver Honda Civic. Abigail squealed in joy and hugged both Will and Hannibal at the same time,

“Oh thank you it’s perfect! Now I can come back to visit every other weekend or so for the first couple months!”

After hearing her course load he wasn’t sure she would but he also felt a strange dread looking at the car. It meant something else than just a thoughtful and very expensive Birthday present.

“I’m glad you like it Abigail. You are an adult now so I thought it would be appropriate to give you a responsible gift.”

Hannibal looked at her with something in his eyes that was more like contempt than warmth. She grinned back at him like a cat that had eaten canary and crow. A sort of half victory.

It was like standing at a busy crosswalk waiting for the light to change and stepping off the curb two seconds too soon.

He was blindsided by the thought that they were the same.

Both Hannibal and Abigail fit so well and abraded each other because they were cut from the same grain.  But just as soon as the terrifying realization dawned did he realize he was staring at the car alone in the cool night air. He shivered as his eyes drifted over its metallic façade. For the first night in a long time he felt sleepy not just exhausted.

And he slept for a little while without dreaming.

But like always visions started to bubble up from the ooze of his subconscious.

He was walking down Hannibal’s hallway, bare feet silent on the long Persian rug. Sounds were coming from behind his door but as Will approached it opened enough to show him a sliver of the bed. A woman’s back was to him as she viciously rode the man in the bed. Her long brown hair slithering over her pale shoulders and undulating back. She turned enough to watch him as she impaled herself over and over. Bit her lip hard enough to make it bleed as she came.

Abigail licked her bloody lips and smeared it down her throat and breast as she grinned a ruby smile.

Hannibal rose out of the shadows beyond her and ran a thin calloused finger over the angry red slash in her throat that was now a weeping wound. He fingered the bloody slit obscenely while watching Will with dead black eyes. Abigail just laughed and laughed.

It bounced off the walls like sobbing.

 

Will woke up covered in sweat and shaking. He didn’t sleep for nearly a week after that. His addiction to caffeine was a small price to pay not to see anything like that when he closed his eyes.

It was on another sleepless night about a week before Abigail left for Brown that he decided to give into neurosis and actually creep down Hannibal’s wing to his room. Even though he knew Abigail was still up late downstairs reading. Even though he knew Hannibal was probably doing something mundane like reading in bed or watching late night television.

When he got to the door it was just a crack open, like it had been in his dream. And even if he had wanted to take his eyes away he couldn’t have. Hannibal was walking towards his bed in nothing but a low slung terry cloth towel. He then promptly dropped it right in the middle of the room and proceeded to open his dresser and pull on a pair of loose terry cloth pajama bottoms over the curve of his defined ass.

It was too late for him to stumble away from the door. Hannibal was already opening it and leaning against the frame with his arms crossed. Will could only stare back in blank confusion and slight terror.

“Will you have only to ask.”

Hannibal then removed his glasses gently and folded them up onto Will’s shirt pocket.

Kissing felt odd and stiff and alien. Also good. It had been so long since he had felt anything like this and it was strange but also mesmerizing. He let Hannibal guide him gently to his bed and kissed him back eagerly as he started to strip him methodically. Will couldn’t wait any more. It felt like he had been waiting for a lifetime outside his own skin and then he was back in it and it was hot and sweaty and delicious.

He rutted against Hannibal’s hard thigh and then he was thrusting into his dark calloused hand. The half-light from the bathroom casting blurred yellow shadows across taught muscle and flushed red cocks. Will came much too quickly screaming. Let Hannibal soothe him through it and then watched as he efficiently, without flair, brought himself off onto Will’s stomach.

They both lay there panting for a while afterwards. He was sure he had made some embarrassing sounds, probably loud enough for Abigail to hear and he cringed. But Hannibal had been silent throughout.  If he hadn’t been staring wide eyed into his face he would have thought he hadn’t liked what they’d done.

But his burnt black eyes were searing Will’s face and his mouth was quirked up in a slightly smug smile.

He didn’t have to say a word because one was echoing through Will’s mind.

_Mine, mine, mine._  

 

What had he done? The image of Abigail’s bloody lips smiling flashed before his eyes before he fell into an exhausted dreamless sleep.

But Hannibal’s soft whisper called him back for a second,

“Ask and you shall receive…. everything.”

He shivered and then there was only darkness.

 

* * *

 

Abigail heard them start to go at it upstairs and smirked.

She lazily scratched Jake behind his ears and turned to the next page of her novel. It was about a woman who had made a deal with the devil so she could express her full power. There was a reason it was her favorite book. The woman got her power and the only price she had to pay for it was her humanity. How happy she was soaked in the blood of her people, the ones who had denied her greatness to begin with.

The thumping of the heavy bed frame ended with a shout and her smile turned smug. She wondered how long it would take Hannibal before he asked Will to join them.

Well he would try and cut her out of the equation any time he could, kill her ultimately. But as much as he was now loathe to admit she knew he needed her.

Because Will needed her but also because he had left her a lovely present in the trunk of her new car. It was sound proofed and she was quite sure the boy that was in there had been screaming through his gag while all three of them admired it on her birthday. That gave her such a thrill.

She knew Hannibal enjoyed the game of almost getting caught even more than she did. He had been at it far longer.

So trying to convert some one who could catch you and ruin your fun was doubly exciting. That was probably why every other therapy session had turned into a hate fuck on his pristine wooden desk.

No matter.

Sex wasn’t even the best thing they would open Will up to. There was nothing in this world that felt as good as killing and Will knew it now after finally fucking Hannibal.

He knew it and both of them would be there to walk him through it.

Things were going to be so much better than it had been with her and her father. Now she had two and neither of them were sentimental idiots. She almost didn’t want to leave. But that was why Hannibal had really gotten her the car. He didn’t want her to.

One big happy family.

She wondered how distressed Will would be if she made him a cross stitch for Christmas that read, “ The family that kills together, stays together.”

Well all in good time.

They would be picking his first victim soon and screwing in the back seat of her new Honda afterwards. And all would be right with the world. Finally.

 


End file.
